Love Lost
by ToonedIn
Summary: X-Files/Profiler X-over. While Scully is gone, Mulder is roped into an investigation by the VCTF that could potentially leave him six feet under. Both shipper and no-romo friendly.
1. March 24th

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'Love Lost'

Original story by CSM'sWife, adapted by ToonedInUK

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Disclaimer: Neither myself or CSM'sWife own "The X-Files" or any of the characters (Fox Mulder, A.D.   
Skinner, Dana Scully A.D. Skinner's secretary, Samantha Mulder, Duane Barry   
etc.) - they are the property of CC and 1013 Productions. I do not own   
"Profiler" or any of the characters (Bailey Malone, Samantha Waters, John   
Grant, Grace, George Fraele etc.), they are the property of the NBC network and the creators.

Any other characters are the property of either myself or Michelle. 

No real life people have been written into this story, any likeness to a 

person (by name or otherwise) or event is completely unintended. 

****

Classification: XF/Profiler Crossover. A, S (both Shipper & No-Romo friendly).

****

Rating: PG (not too much to be worried about - the odd swear word)

****

Spoilers: Duane Barry, Ascension, One Breath. (Don't know about Profiler tho')

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Feedback: would be most appreciated by either myself (ToonedInuk@yahoo.com) or CSM'sWife (CSM'sWife@aol.com)

****

Authors' Notes: This is the first time either myself or CSM'sWife have attempted to write anything to do with Profiler, so bare with us! Also, because I ('I' being Anna-Marie) haven't really watched many Profiler episodes, it's based more on The X-Files, but I hope it will still please the Profiler fans out there! We are very aware of some fallacies in this story (ie things that don't correlate with the series), but most of them are intentional. I will get severely miffed if people comment on my spelling - I'm English so I spell things the English way! We don't mind flames - they'll go on the fire to keep CSM'sWife and myself warm during the winter months ;-)

Apartment #42

March 24th

06:45 a.m.

He reached out for her, but he was too late. She tried to call his name but failed as 'They' grabbed her waist. 'They' pulled her back, out of the room, backwards into the blinding light which soon engulfed his entire vision. As quickly as the light had appeared, it disappeared. She too, was gone.

"No!" Mulder awoke with a jerk. He had been having those nightmares ever since 'They' had taken her away from him. He tried to stay optimistic about her return, yet he knew that even *if* she was returned, she would not be found without injury - possibly without life, even. Oh, how he longed to see her again, if only for an instant. He missed her quiet laugh - even if it was at his expense - he missed the way she looked at him, the way she would know how he was feeling at each and every moment in time. But most of all, he missed the way she was always there to help him through the bad times and the good. No one else had ever done that for him - only her.

Removing himself from the sofa, he proceeded to scour the kitchen for anything remotely edible. He found half of a chocolate bar in the refrigerator, but then remembered all of the things she would say if she were there about eating chocolate for breakfast. He didn't ever listen to what she told him about such things, but today, she wouldn't be able to grace him with her presence, let alone chew him out for his bad habits. He threw the sweet delight into the bin, along with a carton of congealed orange juice he had been keeping. I'll get something on the way to the office Mulder thought. He walked over to the television and turned it on. He sat still for a few minutes, channel surfing until he found a suitable programme. The news was the only thing he would be able to watch, nothing like other people's problems to take your mind off your own. He then left the room to go and get showered and dressed for work.

After he was in suitable attire for another day in the basement office in the FBI building, he returned to the main room. Hadn't been paying much attention to what CNN were showing until the anchor said the two words 

"…serial killer has butchered four men in this manner, and the latest was found here in Rhode Island just two days ago. The 'Violent Crimes Task Force' from Georgia or 'VCTF' as it is also known, has been roped in to investigate these horrific murders. That's all we have for now, back to you Tom."

"Thanks Gina…"

Mulder turned the television off before another word got out and he left the apartment.

****

Mulder's **Basement** **Office**

J. Edgar Hoover Building - FBI Headquarters

Washington DC

10:05 a.m.

The cases he had been investigating since her abduction had really meant little to him, and the prospect of helping to catch a serial killer was beginning to sound appealing. He knew of course that it would be unlikely that he would become involved in any investigation of that nature. As he leaned back in his chair, Mulder looked at the photograph of himself and his former partner. They were at a crime scene talking over what they had found, and one of the reporters turned his attention to them at that particular moment. Mulder liked the way the photo caught the redness of her hair perfectly, and her eyes were glittering. He remembered that they had found a suspect for the crime, which was why she looked even remotely pleased. The suspect didn't pan out, but that was beside the point. The point was that she was happy, well…ish. They were a team - total opposites, but that's what made it work. They were unbeatable, like Holmes and Watson - except when it involved Professor Moriati. With Mulder, it was always 'the Syndicate' that got the better of he and Dana Scully; they stuck together like metal to a magnet. That is, until Duane Barry came into the equation.

Mulder would never forgive that S.O.B Duane Barry (who he had successfully talked out of a hostage negotiation no less!) for what he had done, given his partner and best friend to the secret government group he knew as 'the Syndicate'. He wondered what they were doing to her at that very moment, no doubt carrying out tests, drilling, prodding, poking. He wondered if she was in pain, perhaps she would see his sister. It was a long shot, but if he ever did see her again, at least she could fill him in on Samantha Mulder's status - whether it be in a dream or in reality. He doubted the latter. He was startled out of his reverie by the telephone ringing.

"Hello?" He asked, although he had a pretty good idea of who it was.

"Agent Mulder, Assistant Director Skinner has requested that he talk to you in his office."

"All right, thank you Kim." The woman on the other end of the line hung up. This was exactly what he had expected to hear, so he immediately headed up to his boss's office.

****

Providence

Rhode Island

Crime Scene

06:50 a.m.

Agent John Grant surveyed the crime scene. This was the forth victim of the New England serial killer in just eight days, or 'The Carver' as the tabloids were calling him. They had tried to keep a lid on it, but it didn't help that the person who found the second body was a reporter for a local newspaper. The first victim was found in New Jersey, the second in Maine, and the third in Massachusetts. Each victim was male and had a stab wound through the heart. In addition, each man had the name of a woman carved into his chest - each time it was different.

Grant and his team - Bailey Malone, George Fraele, and profiler Samantha Waters - had found that in each case, the men each had a recent traumatic break-up with a woman who they could only assume was the one referred to on their chests as huge ugly gashes. Each man had suffered greatly for his loss according to friends and family.

Grant looked up to see Waters approaching.

"So, what do you think Sam? Any new thoughts popping up?" Grant asked, the weariness showing in his voice. He didn't expect anything since there was nothing really different about this crime scene in comparison to the others.

"No, not really. I think it's likely that he too had a relationship with uh…Beth, and they broke up. From the looks of it, he was engaged to her - he was wearing a ring. Of course we'll have to double-check that." She paused for a beat and then went on. "Maybe 'The Carver' wants to put these men out of their misery. He may think he's helping them." She heard Grant take and let out a deep breath slowly.

"Hopefully the guy slipped up somewhere here, left us some forensic data - a fingerprint might come in handy." Sam chuckled at his pun, but it didn't last for long. "We'll have to take a look at all of the patterns again. Where he goes to kill his victims, how he finds them, every single one - we're going nowhere, fast."

"Maybe Grace will find something when she does the autopsy. Maybe he did slip up."

****

FBI Headquarters

Washington DC

AD Skinner's Office

10:13 a.m.

"Agent Mulder, have a seat." Skinner extended his hand towards the chair, gesturing for him to sit down. When Mulder was seated, he started. "I have noticed a certain lack of enthusiasm in your work, which is totally out of character for you, and under the circumstances, I think it would be wise if you were to take a bit of time off." Mulder knew that his boss was only using the lack of enthusiasm as an excuse for giving Mulder what he thought was much needed time away from work. In fact to Mulder, time off work was the last thing he needed. It would only serve the purpose of allowing him to wallow in self-pity for longer than was absolutely necessary.

"Sir, I think it would be better for me to--" Skinner cut him off in mid-sentence.

"Mulder, you look like hell, and it's pretty damn obvious you've not slept in weeks. So you have a choice now Agent. You can either take your leave voluntarily, or I will be forced to make you do so by suspending you. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, sir." Mulder's expression was sour as those words left his mouth, and he stood up from his seat. As he was about to leave, the man on the other side of the desk stopped him by saying-

"I'll keep an eye on things while you're gone and try to minimise the damage done by that Cigarette Smoking bastard if he shows his ugly face."

"Sir, I realise that you are only trying to help, but both you and I know that you cannot 'keep an eye' on the X-Files. That Smoking S.O.B. will do as he pleases, and you won't be able to do a thing about it." Mulder replied calmly, looking straight into his boss's eyes. He then turned and left the office.

As he stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor, Mulder was greeted with a pleasant surprise. In front of him were standing two old friends from the academy. John Grant and Samantha Waters were part of the VCTF now, but what were they doing here? They were based in Georgia for chrissakes! Then he remembered what he had seen on the television that morning. "..here in Rhode Island just two days ago. The 'Violent Crimes Task Force from Georgia or the 'VCTF' as it is also known, have been roped in to investigate…" The fact that they were there still made no sense, but perhaps he could find a way of getting them to let him help. It would certainly take his mind off Scully, if only for a short while.

Mulder started walking toward his friend who had yet to notice his presence. "John!" he called when he was about 10 ft away. John Grant turned quickly to face the person who was calling his name

"Mulder? Hey! How are ya?"

"I'm fine," he lied "how about you?"

"I'm good, and I heard about that thing with umm…" he trailed off and cast his eyes down, not sure exactly how Mulder would react to him bringing Scully into the conversation. "We don't seem to be going anywhere with this case I'm working on right now, and with all of the press coverage of it, I'm afraid our killer will go underground." He knew that this would get Mulder off thinking about his last comment.

"'The Carver' isn't it? That's what you're calling him, right?"

"Yes. I take it you watched the news this morning."

"Only part of it - a whole 30 seconds. How's Sam?" Mulder motioned with his head towards the blonde woman to his left. She was in deep conversation with an older man. I could have sworn I saw him in a James Bond film! Mulder thought.

"Sam? She's all right as far as I know, and she did a great profile for this case." Before Mulder could protest, Grant walked over to Waters and tapped her on the shoulder, there-by disrupting her conversation. He whispered something to her that sounded unintelligible to Mulder and she looked directly at her friend's face. She smiled warmly and walked over.

"Hey Mulder."

"Hey." Mulder replied. She gave him a quick embrace.

"I haven't seen you in sooo long!" The contact reminded him of Scully, and he visibly blanched. "Mulder, are you OK?" she asked. "You look a little pale."

"I'm fine." He lied again. He didn't want to burden her with his problems, so before she could say anything more, he asked, "How's Chole?"

"She's fine, but was wondering why we haven't seen you these past two years."

"Well, you know me - work-o-holic, and with what's been going on with the X-Files since I acquired my new partner, I've not had much time. Plus you've been profiling a lot more."

"Where is she anyway? Dana I mean. I haven't met her yet, and it seems like every time I want to, either you she or I are doing something else."

"Sam, John." Neither agent had noticed that their superior was standing behind them. They turned to face him. "While you were all talking, I got another call. There's another one in Annapolis." Bailey Malone stated.

"Mulder, this is the head of the VCTF, Bailey Malone. Bailey, this is Fox Mulder." Waters introduced them. Mulder and Malone shook hands.

"Nice to meet you Spooky." Malone said with a smile. That soon faded when he saw Mulder's cold expression when he said that name.

"Nice to meet you." The words practically had icicles hanging from them.

"We've got to go." Malone said hurriedly, trying to get away as soon as possible.

"See you later Mulder." Grant said, turning away to follow Malone.

"See ya." Waters said after giving him another quick hug.

"Tell Chloe I said hello." Mulder said with that patented Mulder-smile. "I'm on leave now, so I'll call you later. OK?"

"The number's the same as it was last time." Grant said. On a good note, Mulder left the building.

****

Annapolis

Maryland

Crime Scene

12:06 p.m.

"Nothing again?" Grant asked Waters.

"Nope, nada, nothing, zip."

"Hey, maybe Mulder could help us. I mean we're going nowhere, and we can't afford to wait until this madman slips up and makes a mistake."

"Makes sense, but it'll have to be unofficial though."

"I'll send him a copy of what we have and he can phone or email us with anything he finds." Both Grant and Waters paused for a moment. "I'll bet that AD Skinner threatened Mulder with suspension to get him to take his leave!"

"Ten dollars?"

"You're on."

"I don't see why the AD would threaten him if nothing had happened, I would have thought Skinner would be happy for Mulder to be working."

"You haven't heard yet?" Grant asked, shocked.

"Heard what?"

"Only the most major piece of news in the history of Mulder gossip!"

"Well what's that?" Waters asked impatiently.

"You really don't know, do you?"

"KNOW WHAT?!" she almost shouted at him.

"The reason why you weren't able to meet Special Agent Dana Scully is because she is no longer with us --" 

"You mean she's --" Waters butted in, in the middle of his sentence.

"No, no. Not quite that dramatic, but she's been abducted!"

"Ha, ha. Now really, what is it that I don't know?"

"That is it - Scully's been abducted!"

"That's ridiculous! What would anyone want with her?"

"To get to Mulder perhaps? Well, that's probably what he's thinking anyway."

"I don't understand, when did this happen? How?" she queried. Grant filled her in on the events that lead up to Scully's abduction whilst she stood there staring in amazement.

"Of course I can't be sure of the details, but that's what I hear happened."

"Oh my gosh, that's awful! How about I just give you the ten dollars now."

****

Apartment #42

Washington DC

19:47 p.m.

Mulder hadn't done much since he returned home earlier that day. He watched a few of those videos that he maintained weren't his, and cleared the apartment of rubbish. He tried sleeping again, but the nightmare still haunted him like a plague. He opened his laptop computer and logged onto his email account. He had several new messages, but only one of them really caught his eye. "John_Grant@vctf.gov". The file was what Mulder had been waiting for, a cry of help so that he could assist with John's latest case. He read the short paragraph that Grant typed before launching into the case.

"Hey Mulder, Sam and I reckon you'll get pretty bored today, so we've sent you what we have on our 'Carver' case. We are hoping you will help us catch the bastard. We aren't going anywhere on this.

You realise this will have to be kept unofficial though. Thank you."

Hmm…unofficial eh? I can live with that. The next part of the email was of all of Grant's notes all neatly compiled into a table.

Name

Age

Location found

Occupation

Marital Status

Marcus Shane Connelly

34

New Jersey

Lawyer

Married

Nigel Terrence Davis

34

Maine

Insurance Broker

Married

Samuel Denton

40

Massachusetts

Publican

Married

Peter John Rogers

29

Rhode Island

Shop Assistant

Married

Alan Richard Zammit

33

Annapolis

Computer Technician

Engaged

Name

Date of death

Date found

Estimated time of death

Carved name

Marcus Shane Connelly

15/03

16/03

00:00- 02:00am

Michelle

Nigel Terrence Davis

17/03

18/03

00:00- 02:00am

Eleanor

Samuel Denton

19/03

20/03

01:00- 02:30am

Heather

Peter John Rogers 

21/03

22/03

00:00- 02:00am

Bethan

Alan Richard Zammit

23/03

24/03

01:30- 03:00am

Caitlynne

Added to the email were several attachments. Mulder assumed that they were the crime scene photos, so he opened them up and one look at the first made him feel the contents of his stomach resurfacing. The men were each found on a park bench with an arm over their faces, as if they were sleeping. Mulder just sat there thinking about how sick the perp was. He printed out all of he information, including the grotesque photographs. Once done, he laid each piece of paper neatly on his desk and sat still for what he guessed was about an hour, looking for anything anomalous or something that jumped out at him. Nothing came.

He exhaled slowly and thought about going for a run. He'd done that everyday for as long as he could remember, but he couldn't remember the last time he had played basketball. He grabbed up his orange ball and went to change into his joggers and sweatshirt.

****

Basketball court

Somewhere in Washington DC

22:04 p.m.

"And he shoots, he scores! The crowd goes wild!" Mulder shouted, even though there was no one around to hear him. The rhythmic bouncing of the ball between his hand and the ground was relaxing, much like music. He had been playing for about an hour but he still had as much energy as when he had started and it also served to take his mind away from his ex-partner. He often used physical distractions to avert his mind from the never-ending nightmare that was his life. Of course that would mean that he would have to be asleep, but alas, being awake was worse. At least if he were asleep, he would awake to find it not real - it was just his luck that he could not awake from life.

As he started to think about his life again, he started seeing faces of his enemies on the backboard of the hoop. This made him want to hit the board harder. Then, out of out of the blue, he saw the image of Dana Scully standing as she had in the photo he had been looking at earlier. He stopped, not daring to look away even for a milli-second for fear that she would disappear, therefore, in his mind, gone forever.

He didn't hear the man behind him calling out to him, asking if he was OK.

"Hey mister! Are you all right?" The man said it a little louder than before, and it finally got through to Mulder.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Just thinkin' of something, that's all." He replied. He still hadn't looked away from the net, the man was debating whether to stay or leave, he decided to stay.

"Do you want to play a little one-on-one?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. Why not."

"My name's Andrew Green, and you are…?"

"Er, Fox Mulder, but just call me Mulder." Nothing much was said after that and about an hour later, Andrew called off the match because he claimed that he was getting tired. Mulder suspected it was because he had been royally whooped.

"I'll see you around." 

"Uh, sure." Mulder replied uncertainly as he took another shot. He watched the man walk away out of the corner of his eye. He was a little shorter than Mulder was, and he was quite thin, but didn't have very much in the way of muscles. His dark brown hair was tied up at the back of his head in a ponytail, and he was wearing khakis and a green t-shirt. After a few more shots, Mulder walked slowly home. He gazed up at the stars in the clear sky above, and asked himself if it were possible that his friend would ever be returned to him.


	2. March 25th

Original story by CSM'sWife, adapted by ToonedInUK

****

Disclaimer: Neither myself or CSM'sWife own "The X-Files" or any of the characters (Fox Mulder, A.D.   
Skinner, Dana Scully A.D. Skinner's secretary, Samantha Mulder, Duane Barry   
etc.) - they are the property of CC and 1013 Productions. I do not own   
"Profiler" or any of the characters (Bailey Malone, Samantha Waters, John   
Grant, Grace, George Fraele etc.), they are the property of the NBC network and the creators.

Any other characters are the property of either myself or Michelle. 

No real life people have been written into this story, any likeness to a 

person (by name or otherwise) or event is completely unintended. 

****

Motel room 18

Maryland

Annapolis

March 25th

07:00 a.m.

John Grant woke up with a start as his alarm made itself heard. He immediately went over to his laptop to check for any new mail - namely from Mulder. There was nothing, so he got dressed and was about to leave the room when his computer buzzed at him. He crossed the dirty carpet and looked at the screen. He smiled with anticipation, and the piece of mail:

"From: Fox_Mulder@fbi.gov

Hi. I looked through the stuff you sent me, but I haven't come up with anything as yet - I need to go to the crime scenes. First stop: New Jersey! I'll let you know what happens tomorrow.

F. Mulder"

Grant was not particularly pleased with this development - Malone would have to find out about the extra help that they were getting. On the other hand, he might be grateful for the assistance. He decided to reply.

"To: Fox_Mulder@fbi.gov

Wait, I may be able to get you officially involved - I just have to get it cleared with Bailey. I'll let you know within the hour. AD Skinner is your superior, right?

John."

****

Apartment #42

Washington DC

08:10 a.m.

Mulder had been waiting for Grant's reply, and got exactly what he wanted - he was never going to go to the other crime scenes, that was just a ploy to get Grant to get him officially involved.

"From: John_Grant@vctf.gov

OK Mulder, you're in - catch the next flight you can to Annapolis, and let me know what time you'll arrive. I'll meet you at the airport and show you to the motel that we are all staying in.

John."

Mulder had already packed and booked the flight, so he replied instantly.

****

Annapolis Airport

Maryland

12:37 p.m.

Grant sat on one of the uncomfortable red plastic seats and waited for Mulder. He wasn't due before one o'clock, but Grant had nothing else to do at that time. He checked his watch again - 12:39 p.m. Time seemed to be dragging, and he was becoming more impatient by the second. Finally it got to 13:00 p.m., and the plane was due. He rose from his seat and crossed over to the terminal where Mulder was supposedly going to emerge from. Mulder was the last person off the plane, and half-smiled in apology when he saw the annoyance in Grant's eyes. He went to grab his suitcase from the carousel and then had to wade through the crowd of people towards his friend.

"Hey Mulder."

"Hi. What say we dump my bags and then go straight on to the crime scene?"

"Sounds good, but I need to get a coffee on the way." They stayed in a comfortable silence all the way to the motel, where Mulder dumped his bags in room 21.

****

Annapolis

Maryland

Crime Scene

13:46 p.m.

Malone and Waters were waiting at the side of the road for them. Mulder didn't hesitate before getting out of the car.

"Mulder, you know Bailey Malone." Waters said. Malone approached Mulder for a handshake.

"Sorry about that 'Spooky' comment." Malone said sincerely.

"So, where's Mr. Zammit?" Mulder asked by way of acceptance.

"Over there." Malone pointed due east of their position. They shuffled over to where a few people were milling about, discussing the scene. A woman looked up and opened her mouth to say something, but quickly shut it again as soon as she saw Mulder.

"Mulder, this is Grace, the M.E., and this is Agent George Fraele." Waters paused the introductions for them to shake hands. "Grace, George, this is Special Agent Fox Mulder."

"Grace, anything come up whilst we were waiting?" Grant asked.

"No." she replied half-heartedly.

"So where do go from?" Grant asked.

"I don't know, maybe we should ask our new arrival." Malone indicated in Mulder's direction.

"Well, it would help if he was still with us." Fraele said as-a-matter-of-factly. Malone looked around for him, but couldn't locate the missing Agent. 

"I'll try to find him." Waters offered.

As she walked away, Grant decided to quickly warn the others "A word of warning to you all, whatever happens, don't mention his partner - I'm sure you all know who she is."

"You mean Dana Scully? The centre of conversation all of last week?" Fraele asked.

"Yeah."

"Bailey, you were going to say something?" Grace prompted.

"Uh yes, Agent Mulder is here to assist with this case - has a higher solvency rate than all of us put together, even Sam. He may be able to give us something we missed."

Waters walked in the direction of the park bench, where she expected to find him. He was kneeling to the left of the concrete slabs under the bench.

"Mulder, what are you doing?"

He stood quickly. "Uh, I thought I saw something, but it turned out to be nothing. What do you suppose the positioning of the bodies meant?"

"I'm not sure right now, but it's most likely that he simply didn't want the body being found immediately." She replied as she sat on the grass opposite the bench. Mulder joined her.

"I don't see it that way. To me, this whole case revolves around showing emotion. The arm over the face suggests to me either weariness or extreme pain. The latter is most likely. The name on the chest shows the devotion of the man to the woman, almost like a tattoo. Lastly, the stab wound through the heart shows how the men were feeling - heart broken." They both sat there staring into space for a few seconds before Mulder turned his head and said, "Of course, I could be wrong." At that moment, they were approached by the other members of the VCTF.

"Sam. Mulder." Fraele said to catch their attention. They both got up and brushed themselves off.

"Any developments? You were both gone for a while." Malone asked.

"Not really, I was just telling Sam my thoughts on the case." Mulder then repeated what he had told Waters and there were nods of agreement throughout the group.

****

Motel

Annapolis

Maryland

17:09 p.m.

"He's hiding something." Waters told Grant as they headed off towards their respective rooms. Grant turned to face her.

"What do you mean? You think Mulder's withholding evidence?"

"Yes. He put something in his pocket as soon as he noticed I was there!"

"Maybe we should go to talk to him."

"No. If it means something, he'll tell us." Waters said decisively before turning away and advancing toward her room.

****

Room 21

Mulder had only just got back to his room from the coffee shop when he dug into his left trouser pocket for the small lump of silver that he had deposited earlier at the crime scene. He walked over to the bed and opened his suitcase and removed the photos of the previous crime scenes and his magnifying glass. He set them on the bed, and sat in front them, looking closely at each one using the magnifier in the same vicinity that he found the ring. Surely enough, in each one a small trinket was left by the bench. They could have been the missing wedding and engagement rings.


	3. March 26th

Original story by CSM'sWife, adapted by ToonedInUK

****

Disclaimer: Neither myself or CSM'sWife own "The X-Files" or any of the characters (Fox Mulder, A.D.   
Skinner, Dana Scully A.D. Skinner's secretary, Samantha Mulder, Duane Barry   
etc.) - they are the property of CC and 1013 Productions. I do not own   
"Profiler" or any of the characters (Bailey Malone, Samantha Waters, John   
Grant, Grace, George Fraele etc.), they are the property of the NBC network and the creators.

Any other characters are the property of either myself or Michelle. 

No real life people have been written into this story, any likeness to a 

person (by name or otherwise) or event is completely unintended. 

****

Motel room 21

Annapolis

Maryland

March 26th

00:13 a.m.

He awoke in a cold sweat, the nightmares still haunted him, wouldn't let him forget the horrors of just a few weeks ago. God, he missed her. He missed her more than anything else in the word. The nightmares just reminded him - like putting salt in a fresh wound. The photograph from the office was in the breast pocket of his shirt, so he extracted it and just sat still, taking her in, absorbing he light that she emitted. He didn't look away until he noticed the small wet patch appearing in the bottom left-hand corner of the photo - he was crying. He looked up, searching around for a tissue, but giving up, he wiped his eyes on his t-shirt. Hated to cry, he felt embarrassed, even though no one was looking.

Looking in the window of room 21, Joseph Maly saw the whole display. He had only been passing through the motel yard to get to his room on the other side of the lot. He told himself that he would never commit his offences twice in the same state, but this time he would make an exception - it was an emergency! Of course, he may not be staying long. The man in room 21 may go out of Maryland within the next day or two. Maly decided to wait.

****

Motel room 17

Annapolis

Maryland

07:16 a.m.

Samantha Waters awoke to the sound of the telephone ringing to her right. She rolled over and picked it up. Malone was on the other end.

"Sam, is Agent Mulder accompanying us back to Georgia?"

"I don't know yet, I was going to ask him when I see him in an hour or so. He will probably say no, what with the circumstances. I'll try talk him into it - it'll be good for him to stay away for a while."

"Well, if he does, he'll need to book in advance - most places won't take people who just waltz in off the street, only those with reservations."

"He could just stay with me. I have enough room, and Chloe wants to see him anyway."

"All right."

"Bye." Waters said before they both hung up. She lay there for a few minutes before getting up for a shower.

****

Aeroplane

Somewhere between Annapolis, Maryland and Atlanta, Georgia

10:57 a.m.

Waters was staring out of the window at the passing clouds, just thinking about the case and what Mulder had said. She was also itching to know what it was that he had found at the crime scene. Of course she would get the chance to 'grill' him later, when she got home - he had accepted her offer of accommodation. She glanced over at him. He was resting, seemingly peacefully, but she knew that beneath that facade he was hurting. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to be in Mulder's position - to have no one to turn to. His mother wasn't exactly the nicest person to be around. Waters pitied him. Not in a nasty way, but she really did feel sorry for him.

****

Samantha Waters' Residence

Atlanta

Georgia

17:08 p.m.

Joseph Maly had followed him all the way from Annapolis. He, a woman and her child had just left the house, so it was safe for him to enter. Throughout this period, Maly had suffered a sickening sense of déjà vu - he felt as if he had already met the 'man from room 21' before…but that wasn't possible, was it? He got past the security systems all right, but now it would be just a matter of finding which room the 'man from room 21' was presently residing in. The room wasn't exactly hard to find since the man hadn't unpacked yet. Maly got to work as soon as he confirmed that there were no coded locks on the man's case. He emptied out the case and picked up the laptop computer. The 'man from room 21' had neglected to log out completely, so all Maly had to do was click on the 'cancel' button to stay logged on. He went straight for the email account to find out who the 'man from room 21' actually was. Fox_Mulder@fbi.gov. So, the 'man from room 21' now has a name - a strange name, but a name none-the-less. Next, all that Maly had to do was find out what the woman that Fox was agonising over was called. He was certain that it was a woman because he could see the photo that Fox had been holding through the darkness. He looked through Fox's diary entries and only had to look at half of the latest one to see that the amount of pain he was experiencing was much more than Maly had first anticipated. He went back a week and read the in-depth descriptions of the nightmares that Fox was having. He went back to the last entry again and read the second half of it. In this, he learnt that Fox had found something new at the crime scene. Maly started to panic. Hadn't he hidden the rings well enough? If they were dusted for prints, they would surely find his on them because he hadn't worn gloves. He started to raid Fox's suitcase carelessly - at least he was wearing gloves, so they wouldn't be able to lift his fingerprints from this. He found what he was looking for in a small compartment in the side of the case. He took out the plastic bag with the rings in it and pocketed it. He also closed the computer, still logged on, and put it under his arm. He was about to go back to where he entered when he heard noises emanating from downstairs.

"OK Mulder, I've been waiting since getting on that aeroplane to ask you this; What did you find at crime scene that you said was nothing? I saw you pocket it." Waters asked.

Mulder sighed, resignedly. "Well, you said that the rings were not present when you had a look at the body. When I was looking at the photos that John sent me via email, I saw a small bright patch in the corner. I checked it out, and found the rings. I don't know whether they mean anything, that's the reason I didn't tell anyone."

Maly was listening to every word that the two downstairs were saying, but when Fox said that he would show the woman the rings, he knew that he had to get out - and fast!

"Awww, shit!" Mulder said went he reached the spare room and saw the mess. He went in and surveyed the damage done, first of all noting that his computer was gone, which he was really pissed about. Then he searched for the rings - they were gone too. "SHIT!!!!"

Waters heard his exclamation, so she ran up the stairs to see what the matter was. The sight that greeted her was not what she had expected. There were clothes everywhere, and there was Mulder just looking. "Mulder, are the rings gone?" She asked, more than a little bit worried, since it new evidence.

"Yes. Along with my computer too."

"We'd better not touch anything, he may have left fingerprints. I'll call Bailey." She left the room to go and find the telephone.

Mulder's world once again plummeted into darkness. First Scully was gone, and now he had yet again one of his friends down. Why had he not told Waters about it? Was it his own insecurities perhaps? Was it, more to the point, his fear of being wrong? All he wanted was to be able to curl up into a ball and hibernate until Scully came back, or at least until 'the Carver' was caught. He had been on the verge of killing himself so many times, never as close before Scully was taken. The only thing that kept him hanging on was the distant hope that she would be returned one day. He was startled out of his reverie when Waters put her hand on his shoulder and said his name.

"Mulder, Bailey and Grace will here in a minute. Why don't you come downstairs?" It was more of a request than a question. Mulder obliged.

When they had left the room and began making their way downstairs, Maly crawled out of the cupboard in which he had been hiding. He had originally hoped to leave the place seemingly untouched, but now that wasn't an option - at least they didn't suspect his real motive for being there. Now all that was left to be done was to find a way out that did not involve going to the ground floor. It was not going to be as easy as it looked. The windows were all securely locked and even if he waited it out in that room, it would only be a matter of time before he were discovered. He thought about going into another room and waiting, but if Fox and the woman didn't leave until the next day, he would be trapped. He thought hard and finally came up with a feasible plan. He moved towards the room nearest the stairs and crouched with the door slightly ajar.

He sat there, poised, ready to get going as soon as something happened. But he had been sitting there for well over half-an-hour, and his legs were starting to ache. Just as he was about to give up, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. They carried on walking past the room in which he was situated. He took this opportunity to scamper down the stair and out of the back door whilst their backs were turned.

****

Reception

Last Stop Hotel

Atlanta

17:43 p.m.

"And what's your name please?" the receptionist asked with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Andrew, uh, Green." Maly replied - he had used many aliases, but this was by far his favourite. He had used it when he had gone to Washington DC a short while ago. 

"OK, you're in room 13 - here's your key." She finally replied.

The "Last Stop Hotel" was the only place in the whole area that a person didn't have to have pre-booked. It was run-down, dirty and was practically falling apart. It really was 'the last stop'. Maly travelled up to his room in the creaky old elevator. He didn't trust the stairs not to collapse under his relatively small weight. His room was as poorly decorated as the lobby - the bed sheets had clearly not been changed since at least Queen Victoria's coronation! Maly lay down on the dirty bed, and stared at the ceiling. He had to work out what he was going to do. If they found the other rings at the previous crime scenes, they would surely link it back to him - after all, when he removed them, he didn't wear gloves. Then, he had an amazing idea. If he hastened his move on Fox, perhaps that would shift their attention to the Agent, and so give him enough time.

Maly got up from the bed, crossed over to the table, under which he had placed his suitcase. He reached for the stolen computer behind it. He still didn't know who the woman that Fox was agonising over was called. Unfortunately, Fox was a very complex man, and he almost never referred to anyone by name. The only names that were coming up were "Cigarette Smoking B*****d", "she" "he" and "they". He wrote a lot about tests, and from Maly read, Fox's girlfriend was being subjected to them. Maly went a further back - two years in fact. He found out what she was called - Dana Scully. He also found out that she had originally been sent to spy on him and that she had been a pathologist before she had been assigned to a project called "The X-Files" with him. Maly read on, amazed at what he read. He thought that the contents of the diary would have made a brilliant novel. He had spent a few hours reading before he realised how hungry he was.

****

Sycamore Avenue

Atlanta

21:00 p.m.

Walking down Sycamore Ave., Maly stared at the sky, watching the passing clouds. It was just as he had done when he was a youth. Of course, he had never been as alone whilst doing it - Sarah was always there. All of the memories came flooding back to him in a tidal wave. The most painful memory had to be the night that she said that she was leaving him, she told him that she had "found someone else". The man that she had "found" was in actual fact his twin brother. At first he couldn't handle it - not only had he lost his lover, but also his brother too. It didn't help that two days after her announcement, he got fired from his previous job as a radio DJ. Of course now he had a job. He worked for an Internet-based company, who didn't require him to stay in one place - he could be in Washington State one day, and be over in Washington DC the next, and they wouldn't care just as long as he had an Internet connection. The job was very well paying too, and the money was wired straight into his bank account. He continued to think about Sarah as he walked into a super-market and picked up a bottle of red Bordeaux wine. Big mistake. He looked at the brand name on the bottle and saw that it was Sarah's favourite. They used to go outside into the back garden and sit, drink and talk until the sun was on the horizon once again. At that point, he couldn't imagine living another day without her - she was his life, his love and he thought that he was hers too. Maly snapped out of his reverie when he felt a tear rolling down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away and resolved to help Fox out of the misery that had consumed the rest of his life, to stop Fox from going through what Maly was experiencing any further.


	4. March 27th

Original story by CSM'sWife, adapted by ToonedInUK

****

Disclaimer: Neither myself or CSM'sWife own "The X-Files" or any of the characters (Fox Mulder, A.D.   
Skinner, Dana Scully A.D. Skinner's secretary, Samantha Mulder, Duane Barry   
etc.) - they are the property of CC and 1013 Productions. I do not own   
"Profiler" or any of the characters (Bailey Malone, Samantha Waters, John   
Grant, Grace, George Fraele etc.), they are the property of the NBC network and the creators.

Any other characters are the property of either myself or Michelle. 

No real life people have been written into this story, any likeness to a 

person (by name or otherwise) or event is completely unintended. 

****

Samantha Waters' personal area

VCTF Headquarters

Atlanta

08:00 a.m.

Sam Waters was sitting at her desk when she heard a knock at the door. Before she could call out for the person to enter, Grant came in anyway.

"If the trend continues, he'll hit again today." He told her with a sigh.

"Who? The "Carver"? If my thoughts are correct, then yes, he will. Unfortunately, we can't do anything until we get some more information." Waters said, annoyance clear in the tone of her voice.

"Where's Mulder?" Grant asked, perplexed.

"He was asleep when I got up, and you know how little sleep he actually has - especially at times like this. So I left him alone."

"How is he gonna get here for our meeting at nine o'clock?"

"Oh, I'm going to pick him up in a few minutes."

"How is he, by the way?" he asked, concerned.

"Well, he's not been too affected by the burglary yesterday, but you know Mulder - he's almost certainly got it all bottled up inside."

"But he'll still be good for the investigation, right?"

"Yeah, I think so" Waters crossed over to the clothes pegs on the back of the door and grabbed her coat and left the building.

****

Samantha Waters' Residence

Atlanta

Georgia

07:45

Mulder once again awoke with a start, dripping in cold sweat. The nightmare still came, but now with a stronger force. He sat still for a few moments before standing up from the bed and going to take a shower.

****

08:15

"Mulder? Are you awake yet?" Waters called out, making sure that he could hear her. She got no answer, so she carried on up the stairs until she heard the sound of the shower being turned off. "Mulder? You in the shower?"

"Was - I'm coming out in a moment." Came a muffled reply from within the bathroom.

****

08:45

Both Mulder and Waters were in the car, and on their way to the VCTF Headquarters, when a man stepped into the road right in front of them. Waters slammed on the breaks and swerved in an attempt to avoid a collision. No such luck. The dull thud accompanied the sickening sight of the man's twisted face, in so much pain that it hurt too much to scream. They stopped a few feet from the point of impact, and Waters got out of the car to see who it was that they had hit whilst Mulder telephoned 911 for an ambulance. The man was wearing khakis, a green T-shirt and had his hair pulled back into a ponytail. She felt for a pulse, hoping desperately to find one. She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt the man's blood pumping beneath her fingers. He was still breathing, so he didn't need any CPR or mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and was soon lulled in a sleepy, as if she had been hypnotised. She was 'awoken' by an urgent pat on the shoulder from Mulder, who was crouching behind her.

"Hmm?" was the only answer she could muster.

Mulder leaned closer, and whispered in her ear "I know this man." She was shocked completely out of her state.

"What?" she asked, incredulously.

"I know this man. I met him back in D.C. when I was playing some b-ball." He told her. He was still whispering about how they had met when the sounds of a siren could be heard in the background. They got up from the floor and flagged the rapidly approaching ambulance over to them. The paramedics stepped calmly out of the vehicle and lifted the incapacitated man onto the stretcher.

****

St. Catherine's Hospital

Atlanta

09:30

"He should wake up before tomorrow." She told him, even though it was obvious that he wasn't listening.

He carried on gazing at the cracks in the wall. They spanned out from a single point, as if a heavy object had been thrown against it. "Resembles my life." He said to no one in particular.

"Huh?"

"The cracks in the wall." He replied. "All spanning out from that point there. Imagine that the paint is my life. When I was 12, Sam was taken, that's the force that cracked the paint and my life in the beginning." He started to explain. "Each crack represents a mistake that I've made or an inadequacy or flaw within me."

"Dana's disappearance was about as much your fault as your sister's abduction." As soon as she had said that, she realised what a mistake she had made. She saw him turn inwards into himself, and instantly regretted saying it. It was meant as an 'it's not your fault' statement, but knew that her friend still blamed himself for Samantha Mulder's disappearance - bad move. Dana Scully would never have made that mistake. She watched as he stood up to leave the room, but before he was completely out of the door, she called out to him. "It's not your fault, Mulder. You've twisted it around in your mind so that you see it that way. Don't beat yourself up about this, she'll come back." He said nothing in reply; he didn't even turn to face her, just stopped to listen and then carried on going.

****

11:40 a.m.

Joseph Maly had just received word from the local hospital moments ago that someone close to him had been brought in. He was hit by a car they said, but not just any car. Oh no, he was hit by a federal agent's car. He was directed towards his brother's room, but before he could reach the room, he saw a familiar face. Fox was standing by the coffee vending machine, waiting for it to finish pouring. Maly reasoned that since his brother wouldn't be going anywhere for a while, it would be OK to follow the man who was standing before him. Fox moved away from Maly, and took such big strides that he almost had to run to keep Fox in sight.

Maly hadn't noticed any of the directions he was taking whilst following Fox, but he finally came to a stop outside a room where Fox had just entered. Maly thought that he would look at the patient as he walked casually past the door. He stopped dead in his tracks. On the bed was his brother! Maly checked the room number and looked again at his comatose brother on the bed, just to make sure that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. He then came to another realisation - Fox Mulder must have been in the car that hit Andrew!

Maly entered the room somewhat cautiously. The first person he saw was not Fox, but a woman - the same blond-haired woman that he had seen Fox with since the incident in the hotel room. She had the most strange eyes - there was nothing special about them, yet he was somehow captivated by them. It took all of his willpower to look away and realised that she had been in the car that had almost killed his brother. His gaze turned to pure hatred in a split second, and she found herself unable to speak. Fox still hadn't looked up from his gaze at the wall, but that didn't matter - Maly didn't blame him. It couldn't have been Fox who was driving the car. Not from what Maly had read from the diary entries - Fox was too sharp not to avoid the poor man. It was just as well that the woman didn't say anything - he might just have lost his rag.

Maly carried on walking towards his brother's bedside, taking in every visible cut, bruise and broken body part. The most prominent was the nose. He was hooked up to numerous machines, and Maly just wanted to pull all of the sensors and needles from his twin's body. He sat down on the second chair next to the bed and picked his twin's limp hand and looked on in pain, as Andrew's eyes stayed firmly shut. Seeing him like that, Maly didn't care about what had happened in the past, the only thing left was the 'here and now'.

Mulder had finally noticed that there was someone else present in the room, and turned around to find out who the foreign body was. Maly didn't look up, so Mulder stood and started to push Waters out of the door gently to give the man some privacy. Maly wasn't having any of it - he wanted a confession from the woman.

"Who was driving the car?" he asked in monotone.

"I was." Mulder cut in before the woman with him could say anything. "I'm really sorry, I would've swerved if I could. I'm sorry." He was almost pleading.

To say that Maly was surprised at this outcome was an understatement. He allowed the pair to leave the room with no further questions, stunned into silence. His fogged mind cleared as he repeated Fox's words over and over. "I was. I'm really sorry, I would've swerved if I could. I'm sorry." What kind of an apology is that?! He thought. His shocked state of mind soon turned to one of disgust for the man that he had gotten so so wrong. What is the point of helping that sorry son-of-a-bitch if he couldn't be honest about himself even to his diary? What's up with that?! Maly wanted revenge - he was going to kill this man, it would be no mercy killing. No way. This time it would be outright murder, no amount of apologies could keep Fox from his fate.

When Waters and Mulder reached the car park, Waters exploded.

"What the hell was that, Mulder?"

"What was what?"

"Making that poor guy blame you for something I did!"

"Sam, did you have your eyes open at all in there? Did you not notice the way he was looking at you? He looked like if you said a thing he would rip your heart out and watch you die."

"Yeah, but still…"

"At least I live in DC, so he probably won't follow me anyway - I doubt he'd go that far. At he won't follow you, and it'd be easier to kill you than me - he's probably local."

"The Carver goes that far." She said, ducking her head to get in the car.

****

VCTF Headquarters

Atlanta

Georgia

12:44pm

The meeting had been postponed due to the lack of profilers until three hours later. At the end of the meeting almost all aspects of the case had been explored and dealt with. All were leaving to go home. Well, all except Mulder. He was looking at the map printed on A3 paper, focusing on towns and cities where the murders occurred.

"Hey John?"

"Yeah, Mulder?"

"I know you've already established that he's well off, but I'm thinking maybe he works for an internet company or something. He can't be a salesman or anything like that - the murders are too spread out over too long a period of time."

"Could be, need to talk to Sam and Bailey though, see what they think." Grant turned to face his co-worker. "Sam!"

"Yeah?"

"Mulder's got something."

"Could work for an Internet company or something similar. Some companies don't require you to be at home all the time."

"Maybe. We could check local hotels' guest listings for rooms with phone lines specifically requested."

"See if the same name keeps coming up."

"I'll go see if Bailey thinks it's a good idea. He might put George on it."

****

Room 13

Last Stop Hotel

Atlanta

12:50pm

Upon returning to his hotel room, Maly walked straight to the computer, jerked it open and clicked roughly on the icon to take him into Fox's diary. He still hadn't finished reading a lot of the later entries. They yielded no more interesting information, other than now Maly knew where that odd sense of déjà vu was coning from - basketball in DC.

He found it frustrating that Fox had made him rush his plans. He had wanted to take this one slow because he knew the FBI would be all over the scene like ants, more so than the other scenes, so he would have to be extra careful. Then Fox found the rings, so Maly needed a diversion. Finally, he nearly killed his brother and made him loathe the idea of being on the same planet as Fox any longer.

He decided the next night would be the night. When reading Fox's diary, Maly had noticed a pattern in Fox's sleeping. He found that Fox would sleep properly every five days, and the night of the 28th would be the next big sleep.


	5. March 28th

Original story by CSM'sWife, adapted by ToonedInUK

****

Disclaimer: Neither myself or CSM'sWife own "The X-Files" or any of the characters (Fox Mulder, A.D.   
Skinner, Dana Scully A.D. Skinner's secretary, Samantha Mulder, Duane Barry   
etc.) - they are the property of CC and 1013 Productions. I do not own   
"Profiler" or any of the characters (Bailey Malone, Samantha Waters, John   
Grant, Grace, George Fraele etc.), they are the property of the NBC network and the creators.

Any other characters are the property of either myself or Michelle. 

No real life people have been written into this story, any likeness to a 

person (by name or otherwise) or event is completely unintended. 

****

Samantha Waters's Residence

Atlanta

Georgia

March 28th

02:00 a.m.

The day's investigation had yielded nothing for them. Samantha Waters was finding it hard to sleep. She couldn't get her mind away from the case. 'The Carver' should have already struck, and would be positioning another body on yet another bench. Right at that moment. Sometimes her job made her sick. Tormented by these people, who show no understanding of the sanctity of life. She had once been in a tight scrape where the killer used death to imitate art, imitating life by famous painters. And then there was Jack. She could think all night about Jack but she wouldn't allow herself to. Instead, she dragged herself out of bed and downstairs to watch some television.

Mulder was sprawled out on the sofa, staring at the screen, not really watching the black and white movie that danced across the screen. She knew he would be thinking of one of two things: the case; or, more likely, his partner. She was hoping it was the former. When she had first met him at the academy, she thought he needed to be institutionalised because he insisted on the existence of extraterrestrial life forms and such. Now she had heard of some of the cases that he had been assigned and how they turned out, she just felt sorry for him. He had to deal with demons far more torturous that her own.

"Hey Mulder, what'cha watching?"

"Huh? Oh, some old vampire film."

"Having problems sleeping?"

"Yeah. Did you really need to ask?"

Waters smiled and sat on the sofa beside him, where he had moved over. "I have some sleeping pills if you want some."

"No thanks. What're you doing up?"

"Same as you. Can't sleep 'cause I keep thinking about this case."

"Hmm."

****

VCTF Headquarters

Atlanta

Georgia

07:30 a.m.

"So, where is it this time, Bailey?" Waters asked.

"There isn't one, Sam."

"What? He didn't kill again last night?"

"Doesn't look like it."

"Maybe they just didn't find it yet."

"I doubt it. Where's Agent Mulder?"

"Chloe was being stubborn and wanted him to take her to school so I came straight here. He should be here in a few minutes."

****

Somewhere between Chloe's school and VCTF Headquarters

Atlanta

Georgia

7:40 a.m.

Mulder's mind was in overdrive. There was something nagging at him about what Waters had said to him the previous day. There was something in his eyes. He found it weird how until he had confessed (even if it was a lie), the man hadn't regarded him with hatred, but had channelled his disgusted looks at Waters. Not only that, but he also found that the man whom had been run down was not called Andrew Green, the name he had given in Washington DC. His real name was Andrew Maly. He didn't know the name of his brother, but he wasn't even sure that he wanted to.

****

VCTF Headquarters

Atlanta

Georgia

07:50 a.m.

The results of the hotel search were back. George Fraele had been awake all night conducting it, and while the team crowded around him, him head kept bobbing up and down as he made futile efforts to stay awake enough to explain what he had found. Establishing that Fraele could no longer for a coherent sentence, Malone pushed the screen towards Grant to take over.

In each killing period there were a few rooms rented out with internet connections. The only problem was that there wasn't the same name cropping up. Each name was different, except for the name Andrew Green had cropped up twice in the six locations but he had booked for the entire week in Maryland. The other, he had booked only for two nights, one either side of the killing. There were similar bookings across the states in questions, but in each there was only one booking for either side. They quickly decided that all the bookings either side had to be their man using aliases. Their next mission was to get a description of this man and maybe a sketch if possible.

****

Motel 1

Massachusetts

10:00 a.m.

The team had split up and Grant had been assigned the Massachusetts motel. The place was nicely furnished (if the reception reflected the rest of the motel, at least) and he could understand why it would be called Motel 1 - it was certainly the best looking Motel he had ever set foot in. He rang the bell on the front desk for attention and a short man, perhaps 4'7" and balding, came in with an obviously forced smile.

"Hi. What can I do you for?"

"Agent John Grant." He flashed his badge. "I'm looking for records of a man who rented a room here a week ago."

The short man looked sick.

"The dude on the bench, right?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm unable to let you have any information about the case at this point. Our suspect may have rented a room here from March fifteenth to March sixteenth. Both nights."

"Right, just let me check the records." He disappeared into the back room.

Grant glanced around the room again, hi eyes lingering on the leather sofa. He had wanted one for a while, but had never gotten around to actually buying one. He sat on it, and as he did so, he stared up at the ceiling. He noticed a small hole in the plaster rose around the main light, covered with a circular glass plate. A security camera. He rang the bell again for attention.

"Hang on a minute!" came a muffled shout.

He rang it again.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" The man was getting agitated. "Hold your horses. Here, I got 'em. Now, were you trying to annoy me or did you need something else?"

"The security camera."

"Yeah?"

"When do you re-record on the tapes."

"Every two weeks."

"Can I have a look at the tape for the day the guy checked in?"

"Uh, gimme a minute. I gotta go double-check it's still there - sometimes the tapes get mixed up with ones that are ready to be wiped."

"Thanks."

****

VCTF Headquarters

Atlanta

Georgia

19:04 pm.

The trips to each state had been quick, and mostly fruitless. The descriptions were less than helpful. Most of the team were back at headquarters, in fact all except for John Grant, who waltzed in thirty minutes after everyone else wearing a Cheshire Cat grin.

"Someone looks like they found something." Waters said.

"I have." He replied. He reached his hand deep inside the pocket of his coat and slowly pulled it out for suspense. "Security tape. I looked at it while I was up there and it looks like we got ourselves footage of him checking in."

"What kind of view do we have?" Malone asked.

"Full-on. The whole face."

Later, the team piled into a conference room and seated themselves around the oval table. Malone slid the tape into the VCR and watched the screen come into focus. They all sat for a few minutes watching people come and go in fast motion. Finally a man with thick brown hair tied back in a ponytail entered. Grant paused the tape.

"This is our guy. He looks up in a minute." He allowed the tape to move on a few frames. Sure enough, the man looked around just as Grant had done. If he noticed the camera, it didn't register on his face.

Grant re-winded it and played it again. He noticed both Waters and Mulder moving in closer, and so moved back. Waters took the remote and re-winded it again, pausing the instant the guy looked at the camera.

"Shit Mulder, have you seen him before?" She knew what his answer would be.

"I think we can narrow it down to two suspects, if that's what you mean."

"Andrew or Joseph Maly."

"Right." Mulder adressed Malone. "Bailey, this man is called either Andrew Maly or Joseph Maly. They're twins. They should be quite easy to locate - one is in St Catherine's Hospital. The other should be nearby."


	6. March 29th

Original story by CSM'sWife, adapted by ToonedInUK

****

Disclaimer: Neither myself or CSM'sWife own "The X-Files" or any of the characters (Fox Mulder, A.D.   
Skinner, Dana Scully A.D. Skinner's secretary, Samantha Mulder, Duane Barry   
etc.) - they are the property of CC and 1013 Productions. I do not own   
"Profiler" or any of the characters (Bailey Malone, Samantha Waters, John   
Grant, Grace, George Fraele etc.), they are the property of the NBC network and the creators.

Any other characters are the property of either myself or Michelle. 

No real life people have been written into this story, any likeness to a 

person (by name or otherwise) or event is completely unintended. 

****

St Catherine's Hospital

Atlanta

Georgia

March 29th

08:30 am.

With hands over their holstered guns, the agents entered the hospital room, knowing that at least one of their suspects would be in there. Waters and Mulder entered first, as recognisable faces, however unwanted. Both Malys were there, although Andrew was now awake and alert. Two pairs of eyes stared back at the trio, but no-one said a word for at least a minute.

"You mind if I open the window? It's getting quite stuffy in here." Joseph started to move towards the window, fire in his eyes.

"Sure." Malone said. "We'd like to ask you both some questions regarding a string of murders committed in the past couple of weeks."

"Erm, ok." Said Andrew, a little bemused. He had a surprisingly squeaky voice, which made all three agents turn to face him. Joseph took his chance. He jumped out if the second-storey window into the nearly overflowing dumpster below. He was halfway across the asphalt when he heard the dull thud of a body falling into the dumpster. He knew it was Fox, having read his diary.

Mulder took off after Joseph as fast as he could but he found that Maly was just as fast on his feet as himself, and so made no progress towards his target. Maly had just turned a corner, out of sight of Mulder. As Mulder rounded the corner, he realised he had lost Maly to a sea of people wandering through the city centre. He trudged back through the streets and across the grass to the hospital. Crossing the car park once again, he noticed a book matches. They were in a cream-coloured cardboard wallet. He didn't think they were there when he, Waters and Malone had arrived. He pocketed them - just something he could follow up later-on.

Upon his return to the hotel room, Waters and Malone were questioning Andrew Maly on what had happened… or attempting to question - Maly was too confused about his brother's decision to jump out of the window to really concentrate on what they were asking.

"Hey, I don't think we're gonna get anything from him. Sam, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure." She stepped out of the room. "What is it, Mulder?"

"I think he dropped this." He held out the book of matches. "Think he might be staying there?"

"Could be. It's definitely worth checking out." She poked her head into the room. "Hey Bailey, we got a lead. You wanna stay here and finish questioning and catch us up? Here's our address." She noted the hotel address on the back of a piece of paper she had in her pocket.

****

Last Stop Hotel

Atlanta

Georgia

09:45 am.

"Is there a room rented by a Mr Maly?" Waters asked as she flashed her badge at the receptionist.

"No, sorry."

"Can we see your guest list, please?"

"Sure." A few minutes later, the receptionist produced a hand-written document from amongst one of the mammoth stacks of paper and magazines. "Here."

"Thanks."

Waters and Mulder scanned the document for any recognisable names.

"Here, room 13. Andrew Green. That's the name he used when he was talking to me in DC"

"OK. Can we have the keys to Mr Green's room, number 13, please?"

"You got a warrant?"

"No."

"Then no."

"Miss, this is important. We have reason to believe that if we don't get in there now, he'll clear out and it'll take even longer to find him again. By that time, more people may have died."

The receptionist hesitated, but reluctantly handed over the mater key. "I'm not supposed to let you do this, so don't make a lot of noise - I don't want to get fired because the customers leave early."

****

Room 13

"My god, this place is a pigsty." Waters said. She could hear Mulder snapping on latex gloves so that he would not leave any prints. She followed suit.

"Well here's my computer." Mulder held up the laptop using only his fingertips.

"At least we know we've got our man."


	7. March 30th

Original story by CSM'sWife, adapted by ToonedInUK

****

Disclaimer: Neither myself or CSM'sWife own "The X-Files" or any of the characters (Fox Mulder, A.D.   
Skinner, Dana Scully A.D. Skinner's secretary, Samantha Mulder, Duane Barry   
etc.) - they are the property of CC and 1013 Productions. I do not own   
"Profiler" or any of the characters (Bailey Malone, Samantha Waters, John   
Grant, Grace, George Fraele etc.), they are the property of the NBC network and the creators.

Any other characters are the property of either myself or Michelle. 

No real life people have been written into this story, any likeness to a 

person (by name or otherwise) or event is completely unintended. 

****

Samantha Waters's residence

Atlanta

Georgia

March 29th

00:05 am.

From the looks of things, it was obvious that Joseph Maly hadn't returned to his hotel room, which meant they had a killer in the wind again. Thankfully the press hadn't cottoned on to the fact that 'the Carver' now had a name. It was suspected that he'd try to leave the country. They had put out an All-Points Bulletin on him. Mulder doubted the APB would be much use, but it was all they could do until a sighting of him was reported. When that happened, they would do a proper manhunt.

Arriving home, although ordinarily she would be tired, she found herself more awake than she had been in the previous month at least. Knowing a case was near its end was something that often kept Waters awake at night. As she lay in bed, she could hear the soft hum of the canned laughter coming from the living-room. Mulder was awake again, lying on the sofa. Or at least she thought he was until she saw steady rise and fall of his chest and closed eyes. She covered him with a blanket and crept back to bed.

Maly had been crouching in the small closet-space in Fox's room for hours. His legs and feet ached for keeping himself propped up, ready to pounce as soon as Fox feel asleep. His prediction about Fox's next sleep was correct. Of course, Sod's law made it so that he had fallen asleep in the wrong place, so now Maly had to get downstairs without disturbing either the kid or the woman. Not easy. He opened the closet door and made his way to the bedroom door, opened it and began navigating his way through the maze of creaky floorboards. He got almost to the end of the hall and trod on a loud squeaky one. He stopped and listened but heard nothing. He exhaled the breath he didn't realise he had been holding and carried on down the stairs. He could see movement coming from the sofa and immediately dropped back into the shadows. He soon realised that Fox's jerking movements were a result of a nightmare he was seeing, not because he was awake.

Maly emerged from the shadows and crept closer to the sleeping, writing man. He crouched behind the sofa where Fox was lying. He was about to cock his gun when he heard a gasp and more violent movement from the couch. Fox had awoken from his nightmare. Shit. Maly thought. Oh, fuck it. He cocked his gun anyway and stood up. He raised his Smith & Wesson and aimed it at Fox's head. He almost laughed at the shock registering on his victim's face. The hilarious absurdity of the situation was almost intoxicating. Here was the hot-shot FBI 'golden boy' and he was on the other side of Maly's gun. Fox's face became expressionless and the intoxicating hilarity had been neutralised.

"Hello Joseph. Is it alright to call you Joseph?"

"Whatever." He paused for a moment. "I was going to save you. Then you went and nearly killed my brother."

"Joseph, put the gun down."

"Why? I know you'll just get out your own gun and hold it at me. You won't put yours down."

"Murdering an Agent is a federal offence. You shoot me and you'll get death."

"Oh come off it. I'll get the fucking death sentence anyway. I'm not stupid. I can't believe I was going to save you." Maly was disgusted and showed this blatantly by spitting in Fox's direction.

"What do you mean, you were going to save me?"

"What do you think? Seriously, I though you were cleverer than that. By the way, your diary was an interesting read - you could turn it into a tv series or something if you weren't going to die tonight."

Maly tensed his finger to squeeze the trigger but something stopped him. It wasn't the pathetic look on Fox's face, and it certainly wasn't his conscience.

There was a noise made by a creaky floorboard behind him, the same floorboard he had mistakenly stepped on. He saw Fox's gaze flicker to a point behind him unknown. It was enough to distract Maly enough that he turned around to see what it was. The kid was staring back at him at the foot of the stairs, not daring to move a muscle for fear the man would turn his gun on her. Within a second, his world turned black.

****

Apartment #42

Washington DC

March 30th

02:00 am.

Back in Washington DC, Mulder lay down on his sofa with his eyes closed. He didn't sleep the night before when he had shot him. "I can't believe I was going to save you." He had dozed off once, but the nightmares still dogged him. It was then that he realised just what Maly had meant. Dana Scully. There was that name again.

He went to the window and looked up at the stars, wondering if she was out there. He knew that was where the truth was - out there. Not in his apartment. So he vowed that the next day and every day until he dies he would go back to the basement and keep searching. He'd search for all his worth.

FIN


	8. Important Author's Notes

****

AUTHOR'S NOTES

It has come to my attention that although I have given the original author credit for the story line, I have gotten her name somewhat wrong. Her FF.Net screen name is Morley, and CSMsWife is just the name I knew her by originally.


End file.
